The Next Generation
by ChatterChick
Summary: Little one-shots following Dumbledore's Army after the battle. Many will include their children and significant others. All set in the same universe.
1. Ron and Rose Weasley

The Next Generation

by ChatterChick

Summary: Little one-shots following Dumbledore's Army after the battle. Many will include their children and significant others. All set in the same universe.

A/N These are just some cute and fluffy next-gen one-shots that float around in my head as I work on a longer story. Enjoy and please review!

_Ron Weasley and Rosie, c. December 2010_

"Daddy, why did that man take our photo?" Rosie asked as she squirmed in his arms.

Ron glanced around the Leaky Cauldron. It was packed more tightly than usual with the holidays quickly approaching. He was holding Rosie, not wanting to be separated from her in the busy inn. There, sitting in the back was a man he recognized from Rita Skeeter's crowd. _Honestly_, he was just taking Rosie out to help pick out a gift for her Mum.

"Excuse me sir, but did you just take a photo of my daughter?"

"It's a public space." The wizard replied. "And the Weasleys are – "

Yes, he was well aware. Photos of his children were worth a pretty sickle in the gossip columns. There was very little he could do about it just shy of hiding his children away for good. And he and Hermione desperately wanted their children to have as normal a childhood as possible.

"If you know what's best for your health, you're going to erase those photos." Ron warned him. He could feel the familiar warmth creep up the back of his neck. The media was quite taken with Rosie, the adorable, beloved daughter of Harry Potter's best friends. He knew it would only get worse as she aged. He had already seen it happen as Victoire – now a preteen – was dissected by the media. He only wanted to protect Rosie from the brutal commentary Rita Skeeter and her posse levelled with their society pages.

The wizard looked nonplussed as he pulled out his wand. "Are you threatening me?"

Rosie tightened her grip around his neck and Ron knew there was very little he could do at the moment. He couldn't exactly break into a duel while holding a four-year-old.

"She's just a little girl." Ron tried to reason with him. "Surely there are better stories out there."

"Times are rough, Weasley, and that little girl is worth galleons." The photographer reminded him. Turning his attention to Rosie, the photographer asked, "Care to give a comment for the prophet?"

Rosie shyly buried her head into Ron's shoulder as he heatedly spoke for her, "Absolutely not."

Ron remembered secretly wishing for this type of attention when he was a teenager. It was a horrible cautionary tale of 'be careful what you wish'. The public wanted to know every private, intimate detail of his life. They speculated on his career, his marriage, his family. It seemed the spotlight had only intensified after he and Hermione had added children to the mix. The world couldn't get enough of 'celebrity children' these days.

It was sick.

He walked out into the back courtyard that would lead them to Diagon Alley. He tried to remember what brick he was supposed to tap. Normally he would apparate directly into the market, but he knew Hannah would have had his head if he didn't bring Rosie by to say hello.

"Hold my hand," he reminded Rosie as he set her down. "And don't let go."

"How many galleons am I worth?" Rosie was curious as he tapped the brick wall with his wand. He felt her grip tighten as the bricks realigned to form an entrance way.

"I'm not sure," Ron smiled down at her, trying to reign in his anger. This was supposed to be a fun trip with Rosie. They'd pick out a gift for Hermione, visit George at the shop, and then spoil their dinner with ice cream. "Think the goblins would give me your weight in gold?"

Wide-eyed, she looked up at him. "You'd sell me to the goblins?"

He scooped her up again as they entered the busy street. She was still frowning in clear disapproval as he kissed her forehead. "I don't think there's enough gold in Gringotts, Pumpkin."


	2. James, Albus and Lily Potter

The Next Generation

by ChatterChick

_Harry Potter and James, Albus, and Lily c. 2012_

"You're not in a position to make demands," Harry crossed his arms and looked at James.

James scowled right back at him. "I don't like it and I won't eat it."

Lily, who had been eating without complaint so far, pushed her plate away too. Lately she had taken to mimicking her brother's open rebellion. Not wanting to be left out, Albus quickly followed suit. Harry had been prepared for a battle. Convincing the trio to eat their vegetables was a task akin to convincing the Death Eaters that muggles were people too.

"Fine, you're all going to sit there until those plates are finished."

The threat sounded hollow to his ears; although he knew it sounded stern enough to make them reconsider. Harry always felt rather defeated whenever he came up against his rebelling children. His resolve melted when faced with such _cuteness_. While their charms didn't work on Ginny, they certainly worked on him.

And there it was.

Albus looked mournfully at the tomatoes on his plate. The fringe of his hair fell in front of his eyes. "Mum hates tomatoes too."

Lily tilted her head up at him, brown eyes wide and pleading. "They're so icky."

James, meanwhile, remained defiant. "Mum wouldn't make us eat tomatoes."

Ginny had left Harry with their three little monsters while she reported on a Quidditch match in Bulgaria. She had also left him with the impossible task to try to feed _something_ resembling vegetables to them.

"Tomatoes are a perfectly tasty vegetable; look, _I've_ enjoyed them. I think I might have some more." Harry told them, indicating his clean plate.

He was rewarded with a brilliant smile from Lily as she pushed her plate towards him. "You can have mine if you like."

James and Albus dumped their tomato wedges on top of Lily's. "Ours too!"


	3. George and Roxanne Weasley

The Next Generation

by ChatterChick

_George Weasley and Roxanne, Halloween 2011_

"I want to be a princess!"

"Roxy, you're my little princess every day. Don't you want to be something else?"

"No." The horrified look said it all. Roxy was going to be a princess then.

To Roxy, Halloween was an excuse to wear pink dresses and a tiara in public. To George, Halloween was an excuse to show off some creative magic.

It was also an excuse to one-up whatever costume Angelina was coming up with for Fred.

"Roxy, how would you like to be a kitty?" George tried appealing to her love of furry animals. Neither he nor Angelina had transfigured either of the children into an animal for Halloween yet. George twirled his wand around his fingers as he considered the possibilities for human to animal transfiguration.

Roxy eagerly gave her consent. George was grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat as he set to work.

He felt quite pleased with the end result. Roxy's ears had been turned into a tiny set of pointed cats' ears. Her nose had been lengthened into a snout with whiskers. She now had a fully functioning tail and her hands and feet had been transfigured into giant cat paws. Of course, she had to have a pink dress and tiara, but that didn't diminish from his overall work.

Angelina frowned as she inspected Roxy's paws. "You gave her _claws_?" she mouthed at him.

"I couldn't transfigurate her hands without them, and declawing would hurt her. She won't even know they're there." George shrugged as he picked Roxy up for side-along apparation. This form of transfiguration wasn't entirely meant for a children's Halloween costume, but it wasn't anything he hadn't reversed countless times while experimenting on products for the shop.

The annual party that Neville and Hannah held at the Leaky Cauldron was its usual success. The entire DA and their families had been invited for Halloween games and sweets for the little ones and drinks for the parents. As usual, the DA took any opportunity to come together and enjoy each others' company.

George had taken a booth with Lee Jordan and Oliver Wood and the three were having a heated discussion over the performance of Puddlemere United over the past season. Not much attention was given to the time or their various off-spring.

"Time to head home?" Angelina slipped in beside him. She gave a subtle nod to where Roxy was playing "Pin the Tail on the Hippogriff" with Allison Wood.

George saw their little princess hiding what looked suspiciously like a yawn. "I'll get Roxy if you get Fred?"

"I'll give our goodbyes to Hannah and Neville too." She murmured before giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Once Angelina left to find where Fred had disappeared, George approached Roxy. "I think it's time we went home, hmm Princess? You're looking a bit sleepy."

"No!" She backed away from him. Once she found herself against the wall, she slid all the way to the floor, trying to get as far away from him as possible. "I don't wanna go home!"

George winced. They had let them stay up too late and now Roxy was overtired and cranky. He picked the four year old up, "Come Roxy. Let's go."

"No!" She screamed. She struggled in his arms, wanting to be put down. "I'm not sleepy!"

And there were the claws. Oh _shit_.


	4. Bill and Dominique Weasley

The Next Generation

by ChatterChick

_Bill Weasley and Dominique, c 2008_

It looked like there had been a riot in the Little Sorcerer Daycare. A few tables and chairs were overturned, papers had flown everywhere. There were a few weepy children being comforted by parents. A number of them had been sedated and put to sleep it off on the mats in the back of the room. And in the middle of the chaos was little Dominique Weasley.

She was sitting on a table, swinging her legs as he approached her. She looked every bit the innocent angel Bill knew she wasn't. "Dominique Apolline, do you care to explain why I've been summoned here?"

Sapphire blue eyes tipped up to meet his. Dominique was well aware that she was in Big Trouble. "The medi-witches were supposed to vaccinate us against the Dragon Pox today."

"I fail to see the correlation."

She sighed. "I was only passing on Teddy and Victoire's experiences with a few friends. None of us liked being _forced_ to get them."

Dominique had made it abundantly clear the night before that she was _not_ happy about the upcoming vaccinations. He should have known there would be some form of resistance.

"So you led a rebellion?"

"Yes, well, needles _hurt_." She reminded him, eyeing him warily.

"Dominique, a few moments of pain now is a lot preferable to the Dragon Pox."

Whenever she failed to match with wits and logic, Dominique resorted to acting her age. She crossed her arms and pouted. "You can't make me."

"Oh yes I can."

Dominique's eyes darted around the room, clearly debating making a run for it. Bill wouldn't actually stun his daughter, but she seemed to realize that out running him wasn't an option. A wandless seven year old wasn't going to get very far in the daycare. Her shoulders drooped in defeat.

"Will you come with me?" She asked in a small voice.

Bill expression softened. He would have to punish her when they got home, but for now, she was a very nervous little girl. "Of course, ma petite."

She took his hand for once, forgoing her usual insistence that she was not a baby. The medi-witch's office had been prepared to receive a larger flux of children today. Stations had been set up, with a medi-witch waiting at each. Bill steered her towards the nearest vacancy. He pulled up a plastic chair and sat on Dominique's right side, letting her squeeze his hand.

"I nearly burnt down the cottage when I had the pox," Bill cheerfully told her. He winked at the medi-witch once he was sure he had Dominique's complete attention. "Mama was not impressed."

"Did Mama take care of you?"

"No, she mostly mocked my misfortune."

"She makes me soup when I'm sick."

"She likes you better." Bill flicked her nose. "I think you're done."

Surprised, Dominique looked between him and the medi-witch. Already, the medi-witch was sticking a tiny cotton ball over the puncture. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"Oh."


	5. Neville and Colin Longbottom

The Next Generation

by ChatterChick

_Neville Longbottom and Colin, c. 2013_

Enrolling Colin in a muggle primary school had seemed like an inspired choice at the time. Neither Neville nor Hannah had gone to one, but it seemed the best way to instill an appreciation and understanding of muggles to their children. They had been prepared for the eventual slip-up, the questions about their home-life and the unavoidable accidental magic. And sure enough, barely half-way through September and Colin's teacher had requested a meeting.

"And what, exactly, is it that you do, Mr Longbottom?" Mrs Morgan asked as they sat down to talk.

"I'm a gardener." It was the only thing that seemed believable. If he said he was a school teacher, surely Mrs Morgan would ask where he worked. If he said he taught at a private boarding school in Scotland, she would wonder how he managed to see Colin every evening. Hannah's job had been easy to convert into a muggle profession. Colin had been reminded over and over that the muggles – who were _not_ to be called muggles in public – used the word 'doctor' rather than 'healer'.

"That's what I thought," she sighed. "Colin was supposed to tell us about his family life, but decided to tell us some stories instead. He said you fought evil wizards and warlocks."

Neville sighed; it seemed that Colin had paid no attention to their rules. "He's got quite the imagination."

"He told the class you created magical spells."

"I know a few card tricks," Neville grinned. "Colin still thinks it's real magic."

"He said you can read minds."

Neville allowed himself to laugh. "Of course I can, I also have eyes on the back on my head."

"He called his mother a witch."

"I'll have to speak with him about that." Neville smiled sheepishly, from what he gathered, muggles thought calling someone a witch was highly offensive.

"And what is exactly is a 'crumpled horn snore-ack'?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Neville smiled with sincerity.

"As much as I encourage creativity, Mr Longbottom, I would appreciate next time if Colin would refrain from embellishing the truth."

A/N Veered into OC territory with this one. Colin Frank Longbottom is Neville and Hannah's eldest child in my headcanon.


	6. Ernie and Gavin Macmillan

The Next Generation

by ChatterChick

_Ernie Macmillan and Gavin, c. 2012_

"Gavin, what are you doing up?"

The sound of soft footsteps on the stairs brought Ernie to investigate. Sure enough, he found his young son, Gavin, making his way downstairs.

"Couldn't sleep." The little boy mumbled. He had one hand still on the railing and the other was rubbing his eye.

Ernie had cast the muffling charms himself so he knew Gavin wouldn't have been kept up by their company. Indeed, he seemed surprised, but delighted, to find visitors when he came downstairs.

"George is here!"

He ducked out of Ernie's reach and ran over to greet the Joke Shop owner. George laughed as he picked him up and tossed him in the air.

He wasn't going to go back to bed quietly now.

His friends were going to wind Gavin up and he was going to be up all night and impossible to deal with tomorrow. "Gavin, I think it's time to settle down. It's past your bed time."

"I'm not tired!" He hotly insisted. He seated herself at the table with the rest of the blokes. He was now wide-eyed and pleased at being included with the adults. Ernie rolled his eyes and hoped that his drunken friends wouldn't say anything too inappropriate for little ears. Merlin knew the boy repeated everything he heard, and not always at the most convenient times.

While Susan was visiting her sister in Bristol, Ernie had invited some of the guys over for a much needed 'boys' night'. It brought back memories of his earlier days with the Auror Department. He had been recruited straight after the Battle of Hogwarts and signed on for a five year placement along with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Lee. While he stayed on with Harry, the others didn't want to renew their contracts and left for less risky careers.

It seemed that Ron was being equally nostalgic tonight. He and Lee traded tales of their former glory days with the Auror Department. "And then I punched the bastard – "

"_Ron_," Harry warned. He gave a subtle glance towards Gavin.

Gavin curiously inspected this new adult in his life. While George, Dean and Neville were familiar to him, he seemed a little shier of Harry, Ron and Lee.

"You're Harry Potter!" Ernie groaned.

Harry must have caught the irritated look on Ernie's face because he laughed. "Yes, I am."

"Can you – can you tell me a story? The one about the Hippogriff?"

"How about one you haven't seen in your books?" Harry proceeded to entertain Gavin with a story about a baby Norwegian ridgeback named Norbert. Ernie had to hand it to him, his adventures during their school years certainly made for good bedtime stories.

"Then what happened?"

"Well, we lost Gryffindor 150 points and had to serve detention with Hagrid."

Ernie snorted. That didn't surprise him in the least.

"Did you win the points back?" Gavin pressed him. Harry seemed hesitant and Ernie decided it was time to put an end to the story.

"Aren't you supposed to be rooting for Hufflepuff?" Ernie teased him. "Gryffindor losing points is a _good thing_."

"We beat them in the end," Harry winked at Gavin.

"How much of that was true?" Ernie curiously asked him. He found himself grateful Norbert had been Hagrid's project _before_ he became Care of Magical Creatures professor. He could only imagine how that class would have turned out. "And where on earth did Hagrid get a dragon's egg?"

Sardonically, Harry held up the back of his left hand. _I must not tell lies_ was still etched in striking clarity. "Off a stranger he met at Hog's Head. Do you want to put him to bed?"

Gavin's head was finally beginning to droop on the table.

"I believe you have a future in children's stories, Mr Potter."


	7. Terry Boot and Sophie Corner-Boot

The Next Generation

by ChatterChick

_Terry Boot and Sophie c. 2012_

"Daddy, can I have a little sister?"

Terry glanced up from his Master student's thesis paper. Sophie was standing in the doorframe of his home office.

He starred quizzically at the little girl, trying to determine what brought on this request. Sophie was hardly lacking in playmates and company. "You already have an older brother."

She gave a long-suffering sigh. No doubt wondering how the adults in her life could be so dense. Terry smiled in amusement as she approached the desk and he picked her up, sitting her in his lap. He had long ago discovered that even the most intelligent of adults could be left completely baffled by the things children said.

"Alex is a brother, Daddy, not a sister."

"My mistakes, you already have a sibling then."

"Colin has a brother too, but Mrs Hannah had more babies." Sophie informed him. "It's not fair! He's got _two_ little sisters now. Can I have one?"

He should have suspected that would be the case. The Longbottoms had just welcomed a set of twin girls into their family and Sophie had been very curious about the new additions.

"I don't think the Longbottoms are going to give you one." Terry gently teased her. "Parents get rather attached to their children."

"No. Not like that. I mean you and Papa can make another baby. Papa had me and Alex, so I thought you can have one this time."

Terry knew it was only a matter of time before he and Michael had to talk to Sophie about the basics of her conception. Sophie's growing curiosity coupled with the birth of the Longbottom twins was starting to make for some awkward conversations regarding babies and pregnancy. Sooner or later, Sophie would stumble upon the awareness that she lacked a mother. Maybe it was best she learned the truth now and not from another source.

He wished Michael was here for this conversation. However, this wasn't anything more than simple biology, even if it had to be explained in child-friendly language.

"Sophie, my love, wizards can't get pregnant, only witches can."

"Well then, I'll have the baby!" Sophie happily told him.

Terry tried not to laugh; she was only four and her knowledge of such things ignorant. Instead, he tickled her stomach until she was crying from laughter. "I'm not sure where you expect the baby to fit. You're awfully little."

"Nooooo – !" she howled. "And I'll – ahahaha – get big – stop it! – bigger!"

Sometimes he wanted to freeze the children at this age just for a little while longer.

She was eyeing him suspiciously like he'd start tickling her again without any notice. "If Papa can't make babies, how did he make me and Alex then?"

They had arrived at the evitable question. "Do you remember what Mr Neville said you needed to grow your beans in the garden?"

"You need a seed and food and dirt and water and sunlight and lots of love."

"Babies are like that too. Your biological mother gave us the egg, your Papa the fertilizer, and your Aunt Sarah let us plant you in her tummy." He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, "And I get to give you lots of love." He was rewarded with a small giggle before she started to squirm in his arms.

Excitedly, she twisted around. "Can we ask Aunt Sarah to put another baby in her tummy? Oh please, I want a little sister. Aunt Sarah will say yes!"

And they were back to the little sister dilemma.

"No Sophie, your Aunt Sarah is done having children. Besides, we only had two eggs. One to make Alex and one to make you." Terry filtered that part of the conversation. There had been about two dozen embryos created. The rest had been destroyed after Sarah delivered a second healthy child.

"There's more eggs in the cold box and we can –" Immediately, Sophie stopped herself. Her brown eyes went comically round as her mind processed the implications. "We've been eating baby eggs for breakfast?"

"Those aren't human eggs, they're from chickens."

Far from being relieved, Sophie looked horrified. "They're baby chickens?"

xXxXx

_Michael Corner and Sophie, later that day_

Sophie had gathered all of the eggs from the cold-box and had them wrapped in a pile of blankets. It appeared she had been busy drawing on them this afternoon. Blue markings decorated them. Michael fluffed her hair and took one out of the pile. "Easter eggs?"

"No Papa!" she cried out. "You can't eat Hera!"

"She's trying to hatch them._" _Terry glanced over from the self-peeling vegetables he was supervising.

Michael noticed that the drawings on the egg looked like some sort of bird with feet and had the word 'Hera' written underneath. He put it down in the nest and picked up 'Apollo'. "And why did you let her think she could hatch them?"

"I've already exhausted the topics of pregnancy and in-vitro fertilization. This one's on you."

Not entirely sure what had happened in his absence, Michael tried to reason with her. "Sophie, honey, these eggs are for food. They don't have baby chicks inside them."

She nodded, almost taking this in stride. "I know. They haven't been fertilized yet. Do you think we can get some from Uncle Nev?"


	8. Harry, Ginny and James Potter

The Next Generation

by ChatterChick

_Harry, Ginny and James Potter, c. December 2005_

James was finally old enough to start actively participating in Christmas traditions. Last year he had been six weeks old during the holiday and not at all interested in anything other than sleeping, crying, eating and crying. Before that, Harry and Ginn had spent every Christmas at the Burrow with the rest of the family. While they would have Christmas dinner at the Burrow this year, it would be the first time the young family celebrated just themselves on Christmas morning.

Normally their house-elf, Kreacher, insisted on keeping the pair of them out of his kitchen. However, there were few instances when they had it in their heads to do something and even Kreacher couldn't stop them. Christmas preparations, Harry insisted, was a family event. And Christmas required gingerbread.

Ginny had indulged him so far, knowing Harry's childhood Christmas memories couldn't have been very pleasant. She resolved that his adult ones would be _perfect_. They'd decorate every square inch of Grimmauld Palace and listen to Christmas carols by the fire every night and bake every sort of Christmas biscuit if it made him happy.

"Harry, have you ever baked anything?"

"Well, I used to do some of the cooking for the Dursleys," Harry shrugged as he poured the flour into the large mixing bowl. "I can't see mixing flour, eggs and milk in a bowl being too hard."

Their unhappy elf sniffed disapprovingly at Harry, although chose to remain otherwise silent. Ginny picked up James for lack of something to do. At least she could still keep one Potter from getting underfoot.

James gurgled as his chubby hands reached towards Harry and the ingredients. Harry ruffled the growing mop of messy, dark hair on top of James' head. "Maybe you can help next year."

"Be careful with the ginger!" Ginny groaned. "Otherwise – "

She cringed as she watched the amount of ginger, clove and cinnamon go into the bowl.

"Master Harry seems content with burning his mouth, Kreacher doubts Mistress Ginny's warnings will be of much use." The elf silkily slipped off, no doubt unable to tolerate them in his kitchen for much longer.

"I suppose your Mum will have proper gingerbread if these don't turn out well."

Ginny peered into the mixing bowl. In her best Professor Snape impression, she sneered, "Tell me Mr Potter, has your head swollen so much that you can no longer tell the difference between a pinch and a handful?"

Harry grinned sheepishly as he looked at his concoction. "How brave are you feeling?"

"We could give them to George," Ginny smirked. "I still owe him for the time he decided to test that fake broomstick on me."

The broomstick – modelled after the firebolt series – rose a few feet before shooting out from under her and bursting into fireworks advertising WWW during her last game with the Harpies. The stunt filled the stadium with laughs, although her manager hadn't been thrilled with the free advertising Ginny unwittingly participated in.

"As long as we save one for Ron."

"Naturally."


	9. Bill and Victoire Weasley

The Next Generation

by ChatterChick

_Bill and Victoire Weasley, c. December 2016_

_Stupid Lupin. Stupid, stupid Lupin_. Victoire thought as she knelt next to the toilet. She should have never let him mix her drinks. She still wasn't sure what he had given her, something muggle and something much too strong.

"Victoire, ma chérie, ce qui est faux?"

She glanced up to find her Dad standing in the doorway. She should have known she wouldn't have gotten away with sneaking back in. Her parents were too clever for that. Another bout of nausea hit her and she ducked her head back into the toilet just before she threw up.

She didn't protest as he crouched down next to her, pulled her hair away from her face and began rubbing circles on her back. It felt nice to be taken care of. She was reminded of all the times when she was little and caught the flu.

"C'est juste quelque chose que j'ai mangé." It wasn't technically a lie; it _was_ something she had ingested that evening. It was just more of a liquid than a solid.

Her Dad wanted to rule out everything else first. He pressed the back of his hand to her cheek as if to check her temperature.

"You're flushed, but you don't feel warm," Bill said, thoughtfully. "A little chilly though. Have you been outside? To a certain holiday party you weren't supposed to, perhaps?"

Caught, she pleaded. She knew she looked utterly pathetic right now and hoped it would make her seem a bit more sympathetic. "Daddy, _please_. Everyone was going. And – " here she was sick again. "Aren't I suffering enough?" she weakly moaned when it was over.

"You certainly are." The soothing circles, thankfully, hadn't let up. "Think you can make it to bed now?"

When she nodded, her papa conjured a glass and filled it with tap water. Grateful, she rinsed out her mouth before downing a few mouthfuls of water.

"I should have known you'd try to sneak out. I keep forgetting I have a rebellious little Gryffindor on my hands." Dad frowned as he poured some potion from the medicine cabinet into the glass. "Drink this. How'd you get out anyway?"

Stalling, Victoire drank the potion like she was told. Even drunk, Victoire knew it wasn't a good idea to tell him that Teddy had used his godfather's flying motorcycle to help her sneak out to the party. And an even worse idea to tell him that Teddy had flown her back home while drunk.

Bill grinned tiredly. "I'll find out, you know. Let's get you to bed." He guided her down the hallway and to her bedroom.

"Do you have any hangover potion?" She sleepily asked.

"Oh, I think you're going to be doing this the muggle way. No better way to learn that your actions have consequences." Bill cheerfully told her. She felt him kiss her cheek before waving the candles out. "Bonne nuit, ma chérie."

A/N Poor Bill's got a pair of rebellious daughters! Bill is meant to ask Victoire what's wrong. She replies that "it's just something I ate". Pardon mon français, it's a bit rusty.


	10. Ernie and Susan Macmillan

The Next Generation

by ChatterChick

_Ernie and Susan Macmillan, c. 2001_

"You idiot," Susan was sobbing. "You great, stupid bloody _idiot_!"

"It's not that bad," Ernie said. He winced as the healer continued to sew his side shut. Unfortunately the dark curse that had torn open his side had rendered any attempts at magical healing useless. The only reason he had regained consciousness was the blood replenishing potions the healers had given him upon arrival and the quick "_Rennervate"_.

"You could have _died_!"

An assignment that had him and Neville tracking Amycus Carrow across the Scottish highlands was cut short when the pair of them got caught in a duel with Amycus and Neville needed to choose between Ernie's life and Amycus' capture. While Ernie was relieved that Neville valued his life more than revenge – both badly wanted to see their former "professor" behind bars – he accepted that his job came with many risks.

"You could have died and you wouldn't have even known that – that – " Susan's rant was cut short by her own sobbing, no longer able to continue to berate him.

"Known what? That you're pregnant?"

Susan's mouth fell open in surprise. "You _knew_? But how?"

Ernie gingerly stood up, still feeling a bit dizzy from the blood loss. He shook off the irritated healer who was trying to make him sit back down. "I wasn't sure until now, but you haven't had your period in a while, and you had this secretive smile the last few days."

His wife also had a certain warm glow about her before he had left to track Carrow. He had almost wanted to tease the secret behind her happy smile out of her, but decided to let her be. Knowing Susan, she probably had an elaborate plan to tell him and he didn't want to ruin her fun.

"Are you happy about this?" She shyly asked. "I know we talked about waiting."

Susan agreed to marry him, but they both wanted to wait until his five-year contract was up with the Auror department before trying for any children. His job was so risky and he was away from her so often. Still, it was hard not to be happy about a baby when both looked forward to starting their family.

He wrapped his giant hands around Susan's waist and pulled her closer, smiling. "Of course I am!"

He leaned in to give his wife a kiss.

"I-I-I was going to tell you when you got home," Susan tearfully explained. "I didn't want you to be distracted on your mission, but I didn't want you to die before you knew about the baby!"

"I'm here now, and I know," he reminded her, "And I love you both very much."

He sat back down on the cot so the healer could resume putting him back together. Susan was looking less weepy, so he cheekily asked, "So now that I know, am I allowed to die on my next mission?"

She smacked him on the shoulder of his good side. "_Ernie_!"

A/N Sorry it's been a while! Here's Ernie/Susan :)


	11. Terry, Michael and Sophie Corner-Boot

The Next Generation

by ChatterChick

_Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Sophie Corner-Boot, c. 2011_

"Daddy's home!"

There was nearly a collision as Sophie ran to greet him at the door, although Terry quickly caught the excited toddler and lifted her into the air for a hug.

Terry and Michael had somehow managed to manipulate shift-work and office-work so that one of them would always be home with the children while they were young. The odd occasion that both needed to work, they had arranged for family or a babysitter to look after them. Now that Alex and Sophie were getting older, it seemed appropriate that they make other arrangements during the day.

Alex was old enough to start attending wizarding primary school. After a rough few days, he had eventually adapted to his new school. Now they were trying to ease Sophie into attending the daycare at St. Mungo's for a few days of the week. Sophie hadn't had much interaction with strangers, and never had they left her alone with someone who wasn't DA or family until now. They were worried how she'd respond to this sudden 'abandonment'.

"How was daycare, my love?" He asked as he set her back down.

Sophie launched into the details of her day, from the morning snack to the afternoon activities. Terry relaxed as he listened to the three-year-old's happy chatter. Daycare did not seem to be the traumatizing ordeal they had worried about.

"I drew Papa a picture. He was really sad. Said I had sep-ration ax-ity." She carefully enunciated the unfamiliar term and wrinkled her nose. "Am I sick?"

"No, love, Papa just worried you'd be lonely. Did you miss him?"

"No," she truthfully responded.

His partner, on the other hand, looked utterly miserable. It seemed daycare had distressed the wrong Corner. Their three-year-old scurried to the couch and climbed up next to Michael, bestowing him with a hug.

"How was daycare?" Terry failed to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Awful." Michael shook his head. "I don't know how we can send her back. Leaving her with strangers was just too upsetting, she cried the whole day."

"_She_ cried the whole day?"

Michael scowled at the question. "She cried when I had to leave her."

"I understand that must have been hard for you, but all the books say – " Terry paused at Michael's guilty looking expression. "You did leave her just _once_ in the morning?"

"I may have checked in on her a few times."

"_Michael_!"

"Okay, more than a few times, but I wanted to make sure they were taking good care of her!"

"Small wonders she cried! You were upsetting her!"

"I was not, she was perfectly happy when Papa was there," Michael kissed the top of Sophie's forehead. "Weren't you, Sophie?"

Terry barely contained an eye-roll when Sophie cheerfully agreed with Michael.

"You think it's so easy, why don't you try to leave her at the Ministry daycare?" Michael smugly challenged.

Terry fiddled with his sleeve. "You know, on farther evaluation, it would be rather cruel to uproot her and change daycares."


End file.
